Bombshell in the chair


Ms. Artiste liked to be au courant

dressed fashionably, with her favorite earrings on

(an expensive gift from her current beau)

and her lush mane pulled partly up to show them off.

 The young lady in the chair considered her

a friend; they’d had fun times and

she’d supported the makeup artist through

many romantic rough spots

…and at least one exposed manipulator.

 The makeup artist  was expertly putting

various cosmetics on the girl’s  face

as practice for her skills.

the young woman usually didn’t have a

face to “put on” (as Ms. Artiste would say),  

so the extras layers atop her skin felt odd

but she gave mental kudos to those who were

excellent in this profession,

and to those who did their makeup daily.

The artist looked down at her

1940’s inspired handiwork

at the usually fresh-faced girl

maybe it was just a tinge of jealousy as she

exclaimed quite loudly, delightedly

“My beautiful whore”.

[Where the @#$% did that come from?!!]

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